Back a-yore, during the Black Death, the Yeast family hurriedly made tracks to escape with their lives- to a certain clean well-washed island, with unrivalled healthcare and an attractive industry in illustrated ecclesiastical writing.

Mr Yeast’s passport had just expired though, and ’tis oft said bureaucracy is the last to die.
In the panic of renewing the family document, the unrested patriarch misscribed his name.
He later wearied of ever correcting it in the genial offices of that fair isle.